“I do not think that is such a terrible thing,” he said, seeing Lord Gibson’s eyebrows lift. “Though I can understand that it must be rather trying to hear it over and over again.”
“And how does your own mother fare?”
That sent a small stab of pain into Frederick’s heart.
“She has not returned from my sister’s house as yet,” he said, seeing his friend smile sympathetically. “Ever since my father passed away some three years ago, she has not felt quite at home in the estate. When she received the invitation to visit Charlotte and Lord Hartwood, that was the first time I had seen her smile in many a month. The truth is, I do not think that she will return to live at the estate again. When I marry, she may wish to remove to the Dower House, or she may continue to reside at the Hartwood estate. I think my sister is more than contented to have her present.”
“That is a blessing, I suppose, though I am sorry for the pain that such a loss brings,” came the reply. “I would much prefer that, I think, than to care very little for the passing of one’s spouse.” He wrinkled his nose. “I do not think that I have ever seen my mother happier than the day my father was buried. There was no affection between them.”
Frederick shifted in his chair, finding himself a little uncomfortable. He had never truly given much thought to his prospects and desires when it came to matrimony, but one thing was for certain; he had no eagerness to be wed to someone who did not care one jot for him!
“I do not think that I would demand love from my betrothed,” he said slowly, finding himself being a little more honest with his friend than he had intended, “but I should certainly like an interest to be there.” Seeing Lord Gibson frown, Frederick spread out one hand, the other still holding his brandy glass. “What I mean by that is to say that I would not like to have a bride who cared nothing for me in the least, and was only marrying me out of obligation or by arrangement.”
Slowly, his friend began to nod, his gaze becoming thoughtful.
“I believe that I understand and yes, I think that I should agree with you there. After all, when one marries, it is meant to be for a good many years, should God’s blessing be on you, and I should think it would be more of a dire struggle to have a bride who has no interest in spending even the smallest amount of time in your company!” That thoughtful look was soon chased away by a broad, bright smile as a twinkle came into Lord Gibson’s eye. “Though why we are even talking of or considering such things, I do not know, given that you have no real intention of pursuing it and neither do I!”
Frederick chuckled, the somber moment gone from them.
“Indeed, you are quite right. Goodness, here I am sitting in White’s, a brandy in my hand, and in fine company, permitting myself to think the most foolish things and bringing my spirits down low. How ridiculous that is!”
“Indeed,” his friend said, firmly. “We must give ourselves happier things to talk about. Tell me, are you going tobe throwing any balls, soirees, or dinners while you are in London?”
Frederick blinked.
“I have not thought about doing so, but I suppose I could consider it.”
“Though you would, no doubt, have to be very cautious and careful as to whom you would invite,” Lord Gibson chuckled, making Frederick laugh again. “That may prove a little difficult for you, I think.”
“So long as I do not invite that very clumsy young lady… what was her name again?”
Lord Gibson laughed aloud, his eyes twinkling.
“Miss Fairley?”
“Yes, that is right,” Frederick grinned. “So long as I do not invite Miss Fairley, then I think any dinner party would go very well indeed, would it not?”
This had his friend dissolving into laughter and, though Frederick joined in, he found himself still a little intrigued by the idea of meeting Miss Fairley. She certainly had made an impression upon Lord Gibson, and though it might very well not be the right impression, Frederick was still a little curious as to who this young lady might be.
Chapter Three
“It wasmostembarrassing. I do not know what we are to do!” Emma closed her eyes, her whole body trembling just a little as she listened to her mother and father discussing her as though she was not present. “The whole tray of drinks, Follet!” her mother exclaimed, as though he – and Emma, for that matter – did not already know what had taken place. “They all came crashing down and Lord Gibson’s breeches and boots were soaked with both wine and brandy!”
“It was not as bad as all that, Mama,” Emma protested, seeing both of her parents turn their attention to her at once, though Lady Follet’s expression was rather dark. “And as I have said to you before, it was not my doing! The footman jerked forward, though I do not know why, and the tray fell just as I had picked up my glass.”
Her father sighed and rubbed one hand over his eyes.
“I would believe you, my dear,” he said, softly, “if it was not for the fact that such things have happened before. Last Season was something of a disaster when it came to your… ungainliness and I am sorry to say that it appears to be the very same issue arising again.”
Emma wanted to weep, such was her frustration and her upset, though she managed to steady herself enough to keep her tears from falling.
“I swear to you, Father, it was not my doing. I understand why you might believe that I did something to cause it, but I promise you, it was not so.”
Lord Follet sighed again and looked back to his wife, leaving Emma to search their faces, but both of their expressions were inscrutable.
“I think that it would be best if you stayed back from society a little,” her father said eventually, looking back at Emma with something of a resigned expression. “It is for the best.”
“Best for whom?” she asked quickly, her throat beginning to ache. “Best for you, so that I would not have the chance to embarrass you both any further?” When her father did not respond, but rather simply looked back at Lady Follet, Emma’s heart tore apart. It was not for her benefit, then, but rather so that her mother, father, and sister might be free of her. Closing her eyes, Emma let her tears fall, though neither her mother nor father came to comfort her. Rather, they simply looked at her with a steadiness that spoke of a firmness in their decision. She was to be shunned, then, even by her own family. “You want me to stand with the wallflowers,” Emma continued when neither of them said a word. “Is that your desire? That I will hide away with them?”
